


Cielito Lindo

by Kamala_Reyes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Incomplete, Latino Jesse McCree, Multi, Trans Female Character, i just want McCree to have a long lost sibling ok, i love to suffer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamala_Reyes/pseuds/Kamala_Reyes
Summary: Jesse Mccree wakes up in a cell with no memory of how he got there. He's got to find a way out, but as he talks to the woman he finds out that she's no stranger. She's his sister and she may have ties to Talon, to Reaper, to Gabriel Reyes.Jesse McCree has a sister, and she's saved his life. It's time to return the favor.Based on the Siblings, am I Right? prompt for the MS Paint Bang.





	Cielito Lindo

**Author's Note:**

> Opening Song and title is [Cielito Lindo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5e2dAI0c9Y) by Ana Gabriel. There's also a [Pedro Infante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5RC3BJ2PMo) version that's very nice.
> 
> [ Original Prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/mspaintbang/works/12321954)

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores,” Jesse woke slowly, almost languidly, to the sound of a soft voice singing and warm hands passing through his hair.

“Porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones,” he hears and for a moment he thinks he’s dreaming. Looking up, he can see sun pouring in through a small window, so bright he has to squint and it darkens the features of the person so he can't tell whom it is.

“De la sierra, morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando,” the person continues to sing and passes a hand over his hair so he closes his eyes and drifts on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. 

“Un par de ojitos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando,” the voice sings and then drifts off, the hand on his hair stops.

It’s quiet and Jesse almost falls back to sleep when the figure sighs and shifts in place.

“Goddamn it Gabe, where are you,” the person says and Jesses startles awake.

“What the hell,” Jesse swears as the figure, who had been cradling his head, abruptly shoves him away and rushes to a corner of the room.

His head hit the wall harshly when she had shoved him, but as he inspects the room they’re in he ignores the dull ache and settled for resigned acceptance. He’s in a cell, a shitty one, the bars being the only things seemingly new as the rest of the place smells of dust and mold. Before he can inspect further his gaze is drawn to the mystery figure, which turns out to be a young woman. 

“Well, hello there little lady,” he says and goes to take his hat off only to find it’s not there.

The young woman, a girl really she can’t be older than Hana, looks at him, eyes wary and sharp even as she curls into herself. She’s wearing a white shirt with large flowers embroidered on it, though it’s now dirty and a bit torn, and a large black skirt that’s also seen better days. With the sunlight coming in he can see her hair is dark brown, almost like his, and it's not long but it's not short either and it’s curly and a bit matted and dirty. She’s got one black eye that’s in its final healing stages (it must have been even bigger and uglier before), she’s holding her left hand close to her chest in a way Jesse knows it’s broken, or at least very badly sprained, and on her neck is a steel collar with a small machine attached that bites into her. 

Jesse’s hands twitches as it tries to ball up into a fist but he can’t scare her, not right now, not when he doesn’t know where he is or how he got there. The girl’s eyes had narrowed down on his fist and her eyes shoot to his face shortly afterward, studying him, analyzing him, wary. She stays silent even as she watches him with her fierce brown eyes.

“I ain’t gon’ do anything,” he says and places his hands up, showing that he’s got nothing, “name’s Jesse McCree. Mind telling me yours sweet pea?”

She stays silent even as she slowly unfolds from her cornered position. She has on boots but one has been left untied and as she gets up he can see why, her ankle almost gives out on her as she gets up. He stays still and doesn’t say a thing as she slowly walks over to him, circles him, then finally stands in front of him.

“I’m surprised you’re so clear-headed,” she says and her voice, her voice is familiar. As a matter of fact her whole face tickles something in the back of his head, has he seen her before? “You were suffering from a concussion but I tended to you.”

Jesses touches his head and he feels a cloth tied to his head and he looks to the bottom of her long skirt and sure enough the ends have been ripped off.

“I don’t suppose you know how I got it, do you love,” he asks and he catches the small twitch of her lips.

“As a matter of fact I do,” she says and goes back to sit. “They really hit you hard.”

“I guess they did huh,” he says and when she pats the spot next to her he slowly walks over and sits down, making sure to keep a good distance between them. “Mind telling me who they are?”

The girl huffs before looking away, silence reigning for a few moments until she turns back to him.

“Deadlock,” she responds and says no more, but she doesn’t need to because it all comes rushing in and he pales.

“And Talon,” he answers and when she looks to him he remembers now. Remembers that face from years and years ago.

“My name is Jazmin Mercedes,” she says and her voice is a more mature version of the one in his memory. 

“You’re my sister,” he finishes for her and her smile looks like his- looks like their mother’s.

“I’m your sister, Josue Mercedes,” she says.

* * *

He can't stop looking at her now that it clicks. The toddler from his youth, just learning to form sentences, is now a grown up … well about Hana’s age, at least. She has their mother’s curly locks but they share their father’s shade of dark brown. They have the same eye shape and shade, her face is rounder but it's in the slope of the nose, the shape of the brows, and for a brief moment her smile that is like looking into a mirror.

“I never stopped looking,” he finally says.

She'd been staring at him as intensely as he had at her, but at his words her eyes look away and she looks to the bar cells.

It's quiet between them.

“That's-,” she begins and then stops, lets out a shaky breathe of air, “that just shot up my opinion of you.”

“I didn't.” Jesse replies and he tries not to sound like he's whining, pleading, but he can't stop himself from stretching a hand out to her, stops right he touches her.

Just as he's about to pull away she turns and catches his hand in hers. 

“You look like him,” she says and he tries not to flinch.

“You do too, ‘cept for the hair,” he replies, and it’s true. She looks like their biological father just like he does. “What happened?”

It's something he's desperately tried to find out since he was young, dumb, and a fresh faced recruit for Overwatch. It had been one of the conditions he'd stipulated to Gabe when he joined.

 _‘Get my mom and the baby out.’_  

But he'd been with Gabe when they'd gone to fetch them and there had been no one at the old beat up house he'd called home. The place had been trashed, blood streaks here and there, and fresh bullets holes in a wall already littered with them. His mom and sister (now), were gone, taken by force by his father: the then head of the Deadlock gang. He'd searched when he was recruited, Gabe had searched too, he’d searched after that, when he integrated into Overwatch proper after Blackwatch, after he left, while he was on the run, and he’d searched when he'd come back.

Every Deadlock member from grunt, to the boss, and everyone in between had been questioned; none of them knew where the former Deadlock leader Hernan Mercedes had hid his family. Only the man himself had known and he'd gone to ground the day Gabriel Reyes had come to town and tore Deadlocks’ operation down and took his son Josue Mercedes aka Jesse McCree.

“He took us from what mom said to me,” Jazmin begins softly, “I don't remember it but he took us to México, asked for sanctuary from Los Muertos then joined them.”

“Los Muertos,” Jesse repeats and his stomach drops.

“Yeah,” she says. “Mom didn't do so hot there, got sick a lot, but she took care of me.”

“She- uh, she…” he trails off and Jazmin looks up and her smile is soft.

“She's dead yeah, for a good seven years now,” she replies. “Don't worry, it was a grand affair. Lots of flowers and she was burned in the desert.”

He remembers his mom, Estella Mercedes, young, warm, always armed with a quick grin but fierce when needed, hard in her fists, and a good shot. She'd been the one to teach him to aim, his father was the one who made him kill. She'd loved the Mojave with the fierce love only someone raised in it could.

‘The cactus still blooms,’ she'd always said to him, ‘no matter how hard the sun beats down on it.’

“She kept Hernan from getting me too into the gang shit, but after that… well Hernan was still pissed his son and successor was taken,” she says, “he needed an heir.”

“You,” Jesse says and he can see it now, see the course that her life took and he aches.

“Me,” she says as she plays with his fingers. “He couldn't find a trace of you, thought you dead, so he took me and said I'd be the one to take over Deadlock when he went back...I wasn't too hot on that.”

She looks up from their hands, hers are slender and thin but lined with calluses while his are thicker and broad but lined with just as many calluses.

“She told me about you, a lot,” she says, “Hernan did too, he'd never shut up about you and how I had to be better. They said I looked like you, I hated you.”

Jesse stays silent, his hands had been loose but now he tightens them on hers, grip strong but not enough to hurt her.

“What changed,” he asks.

“You showed up on TV,” she says, eyes locked with him. “Blackwatch was revealed and you were there. I saw the files, I saw what you did, still do. You're a hero, a proper one.”

“I'm-,” he begins and is cut off when she slaps a hand on his mouth.

“You are a hero and then I knew what you did,” her eyes are wide. “You made a choice, you left Hernan, you left the life we had been thrown in and I couldn't hold that against you, not when I would have done the same,” she says.

“That’s-” he begins and once again she shushes him.

“So I forgave you, I sent Overwatch everything I knew about Los Muertos and who Hernan still kept in contact with Deadlock, and then I ran away.” Her eyes are wide and there's a hopeful look in her eyes. “I ran far away and changed into who I really was, but hey still found me and I was punished for it but then he found me.”

“Who,” Jesse asks and his hands still grip hers tightly.

“El Muerto,” she says, “El Segador de Almas.”

Then the lights cut off.

Sunlight still pours into the cell but the light that had been outside the cell and in the hallway flicked off. The hum that had been running through the bars is silent. Jesse slows his breath and listens and it takes a while but he can hear feet running, pounding really.

“Finally,” Jazmin says and she raises her unbroken hand and rips the collar off. 

“What were you doing at the Deadlock gathering,” Jesse asks as she makes to get up, one of her hands still in his grip.

“What were you,” she asks as she straightens up.

“Gathering information,” he says and she smiles.

“Me too,” she responds. “It’d been going well until you showed up.”

“Well,” Jesse begins and grins when she does, “I’m popular like that.”

“Popular isn’t what I’d call it,” she says. “Still, you were doing it for Overwatch, huh?”

He looks at her, and he knows that even though she’s his sister by blood he doesn’t technically know her… but he wants too. Information about Overwatch having regrouped is an international offense. It’s not supposed to be there, Winston had specifically warned them all not to breathe a word about Overwatch reforming and yet, here he was debating about violating that.

“What did that collar do,” he asks instead.

“It stopped me from using my augments,” she responds and he closes his eyes.

“Who gave you that,” he asks but he knows the answer already. 

Her smile turns soft and sad.

“You know who did,” she responds as she cups his face, tilts his head so he can look up to her. They’re the same height.  

“I gotta know,” he replies.

“I did and Talon made them better,” she says and then takes one big inhale, holds it, then spins around and  _screams_.

The sheer volume of it makes him let go of her broken hand so he can cover his ears, even as he feels them pop and ache. Still he watches as the sheer force of her yell blasts the cell doors away as well as the next cells. The ceiling overhead cracks but holds steady, however, the ceiling in the opposite side collapses.

“Reaper found me,” she says after a moment of silence, she’s facing him again, “and he recruited me and I owe him everything.”

She crosses into the hallway and immediately stumbles. Her hand goes out to steady herself but there’s nothing there, before she can fall he’s already there holding her.

“I did once,” Jesse says and he picks her up bridal style.

“He would welcome you back with open arms,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “I know he will.”

“I doubt that,” he says and makes to the only exit.

“So little faith,” she says but a small smirk glances across her face. “He saved us both you know.”

“He did,” Jesse admits and it doesn’t hurt anymore those words, that admittance, that memory. “But he fell in the end and took everything down with him.”

“People make mistakes,” she says and it’s soft but it hits home. 

“So they do,” he says.

“What is Overwatch like, how was it,” she asks.

Jesse stays silent as he kicks open the door. No one is there, but that could be because they’re off fighting whatever forces have invaded if the gunshots are anything to go by. Jesse sets Jazmin down on a chair and begins looking through the lockers in the room. There are guns here and there but not the one he’s looking for. Fortune shines upon him though when he makes to the only table in the room and boom, a safe is right underneath there.

“Don’t suppose you can help me with this,” he asks as he looks up and to his sister. The thought sends up a feeling of glee and warmth in him, he has a sister.

“Let me see,” she says and makes to get up.

“I’ll bring it to ya,” he says, motioning for her to sit down. “Back to your question, I wasn’t ignoring you, it’s just… a lot.” 

“We have time,” she says and a giggle escapes her as the roof shakes from what sounds like an explosion.

Jesse chuckles as he heaves the safe from underneath the table and lugs it to her. He sets it down on the wooden bench she’s sitting on. Leaning in she looks at it and frowns, unbroken hand going to the knob and twisting it around.

“Bullet proof casing,” she mutters and then looks to the pile of guns and scoff, “they don’t even have pulse rifles, amateurs.”

They’re silent as she examines it, the noises of a fight going strong becoming louder for a moment before going away.

“So, Overwatch,” she says, her hand slowly turning the knob.

“It’s-,” Jesse begins before shaking his head and going to sit down on the ground next to her. Her black skirt brushes his flesh arm and he gets the childish urge to tug on it like he used to do with their ma back when he was young and didn’t know a gun. “It’s full of old faces, and some new ones but it’s- it’s home.”

“You sound surprised by that,” she says, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, but it’s the truth and it’s one I just found out,” he says and there’s an ache in there, one he felt since he’d been wandering the Mojave hunting down what he could of Deadlock and dismantling their ties.

“Is it really full of heroes,” she asks and her tone sounds wistful.

“Yeah, the best of them,” he says and dark brown eyes flash in his mind’s eye and he sighs.

“What are they like,” she asks as her hand finally stops on a number. There’s the telltale click of the lock releasing and she let’s out a little, “ah-hah.”

“Well Reinhardt a big man, German, loud, and he likes a good drinking contest,” he says as he gets up and looks in the safe. Low and behold, sitting atop some clothe and- are those gauntlets?- is Peacekeeper, some of his ammo, and his hat.

“Knew they’d be here,” Jazmin says and goes for the gauntlets.

As she tugs them on he examines them, confused by their design if not their intent. Someone doesn’t wear that much metal willingly unless it serves function to either protect or harm or both. They go all the way to her upper arms where she pulls back a sleeve and he can now see steel and synthetic flesh and he tries not to wince. He is harshly reminded of Genji back when Angela first received him, from a frantic Shimada woman who had stolen him away under the guise of preparing funeral rights, and he’d been nothing but a torso with a few pieces attached. She attaches some cables from the gauntlets to her shoulder, or at least tries to. Her left hand is broken and she has trouble putting it on and as she swears in frustration he takes her wrist gently in hand and pulls on the glove for her and helps her attach the rest of the cables to her shoulders. How far are do the prosthetics go? Was this done to her willingly or made in a desperate attempt to save her life? The answer comes when she takes off her shirt.

Underneath it she has a tank top but without the white blouse he can see now that the entire side of her right chest is metal and synthetic flesh, as a matter of fact, her right arm is a prosthetic, a masterfully done one, covered in synthetics that make it look like a flesh arm. On her back is something that looks like a flat version of Lena’s chronal accelerator he hadn't been able see of feel with his own metal arm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did choose my own prompt lol 
> 
> Jazmin is trans, just wanted to clear that up. I will continue this but later. As is, if anyone is interested in continuing it I'm not against it, just hit me up because I'd love to read it too!


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